Idiots
by IReadAndWriteSometimes
Summary: Our favorite couple in a little bit of Christmas fluff.


Just a quick little something I jotted down for the holiday season. :)

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 **IDIOTS**

"Remember last Christmas?"

Sharon is startled for a moment, but as soon as she registers the low voice and the way it tickles her ear, she relaxes. On a hum, she responds, "I do," then leans into what she knew would be Andy's chest.

His hands come around her waist, slipping underneath her grey cardigan, and settling comfortably against her stomach. He presses a brief sideways kiss to her cheek, and she can feel his grin against her skin before he says, "We've forgone one tradition back then."

Her eyebrows lift. She has no idea what he's talking about. What tradition they could have foregone, when there wasn't even a 'they' to begin with, she can't say. Only she's far too comfortable, wrapped up in his warm embrace, his fingers drawing random patterns against her dress, his familiar scent filling her nostrils, to bother so much as to turn her head in askance, much less her entire body to find out what he's talking about.

They're about to head home. The little Christmas celebration they'd indulged in at work wasn't over yet. The music Sanchez chose for the sole purpose of irritating Provenza can still be heard, along with happy chatter and laughter, but it had been a long case, and as much as they loved their coworkers, they were looking forward to a little time to themselves. Perhaps it wasn't all that appropriate for them to be this affectionate at work, but the thought doesn't cross either one of their minds. Besides, they were somewhat shielded from prying eyes in the hallway, and even if they weren't, their relationship was public, hiding everything that it entailed at this point was ridiculous, especially seeing as they were officially off the clock.

Public or not, however, part of her is glad they aren't too exposed, because when he elaborates, his voice rumbling gravelly against her ear, she noticeably shudders, and almost involuntarily melts further into his arms.

"Mistletoe."

Then she laughs, recovering, and even pats his hands in slight chiding. "Don't be ridiculous."

"I'm not," he argues seriously. He sounds almost petulant as he adds, "We've never kissed under mistletoe."

Confident that mistletoe is one thing she doesn't have to worry about at work, she shakes her head, and finally turns around to look at him. "Well," she's trying to be coy on purpose, but pulls it off by accident when her fingers automatically clasp his tie and gently tug at it, "you just call me when you find some then."

Her heart skips a beat, then starts thundering erratically, when her words put a sly grin on his face, and his eyes light up. She knows that expression. It usually means nothing but trouble, but before she can question him, he's clasping her hand, the one still holding onto his tie, and pulling her down the hall, with nothing if not purpose in his gait.

She wants to laugh at his eagerness, but follows wordlessly instead. When he suddenly stops, she actually bumps into his shoulder, but he just grins unapologetically, and leans casually against the wall next to the break room door. She is now more amused than worried or curious, and recovering from their collision, she rests a hand against her hip and eyes him with a lifted eyebrow. "You're _not_ being ridiculous?" Her tone is low, deliberate and sarcastic.

He shrugs in answer, and reaches his hand out, this time inviting her to clasp it herself. He's entirely too adorable for her to even question this silliness, or his smugness, and if that twinkle in his eye wasn't so irresistible, her detective skills might have already kicked in and she would know what this was leading up to. As it was, however, she's also enjoying the way his fingers wrap gently around her hand when she places it in his palm entirely too much to realize exactly why he'd chosen that particular spot to stop and tease her.

When he lightly tugs on her hand, she walks up to him willingly, and then he's suddenly serious again. She can only say, "What?" when he lifts his eyes up to the ceiling, and a smug smile quirks his lips.

She follows his line of sight, and when she zeroes in on the small artificial sprig of greenery, she promptly snorts.

He frowns, that being the last reaction he expected from her, but she only snorts again, her hands coming up to her face as she hides it in his chest. Leave it to Andy Flynn to smuggle mistletoe into the murder room.

She then feels his laugh reverberating through him. No doubt her reaction amuses him, but he grumbles sarcastically, "Doing wonders for my ego, Captain." Even so he wraps his arms around her, keeping her close.

She finally raises her head, the remnants of laughter still written across her features, and smiles at him. "Have you planned this?" She can't help the thinning of her voice nor the way her fingers dance across his tie again.

With a one shoulder shrug, and an innocent tilt of his head, he says, "Maybe."

She narrows her eyes at him, considering his response, then hums a "Hmm…" that sounds both knowing and suspicious.

He doesn't seem too concerned though. Instead, his hands twitch behind her back as he settles them more securely, and he raises an eyebrow. He drags out the word with feigned impatience. "Well?" And just on the off chance that he wasn't being clear enough, he raises his eyes to the mistletoe above them once again.

She purses her lips in answer, but not before the tip of her tongue wets them in anticipation. She is unable to let her moment of teasing deliberation last either, but even as she visibly relaxes in his embrace, she manages to repeat, mock oblivious and matter-of-fact, "Well?"

A mere second later, she falls in love with him even more.

There's a flash in his eyes, of insecurity or doubt or hesitation, she can't quite decide. He won't do this, not at work, off or on duty, whether they're alone there or not, without her explicit permission, no matter how much he wants to. He's playful, and teasing, and flirty, his moods matching hers, but he will not step over any boundaries, real or imagined ones if she doesn't let him.

The sudden rush of emotion pools behind her eyelids, and a warm shiver runs down her spine that causes goosebumps to erupt across her skin. How on God's green earth did she deserve this? Him? So caring and patient and loving and… perfect?

Before he can scramble for a response to her earlier mocking, she manages to say, thickly, "Andy."

His eyes bore into hers, and that rush reappears again, for he can read her so easily, pick up on even the slightest flicker of emotion when he looks at her like that. She feels like making her feel good and comfortable and happy is all that matters to him. But he's hopeful, too, she realizes, because when he responds with a gruff "Yeah?" he sounds optimistic again, maybe even a tad expectant.

Maybe it's the punch her second in command had talked her into having. Maybe she's simply past the point of denying Andy anything. Or maybe she's just drunk on love, but she grabs the lapels of his jacket, and past the thick lump of utter adoration in her throat, she commands, "Kiss me."

And he does. Passionately, but so languidly it takes her breath away. She tilts her head up just so, allowing him to capture her lips completely, and very nearly goes limp in his arms when his teeth scrape teasingly against her bottom lip before his tongue darts out to taste her. His hands go up to her cheeks, when he presses his lips more firmly against hers, and she can sense that this is how he wants to end it, as abruptly as it starts, but before he can let go, her fingers slip into his hair, and she latches back onto him. It's her turn to steal his breath, and she briefly smiles into the kiss when she feels as much as hears the little aroused groan he lets out. With a final nibble at his lip, she finally releases him, and doesn't even open her eyes when their foreheads meet while they catch their breath. They're both smiling, too, and clinging to one another, not because they can't get enough of each other (although that's certainly _a_ reason) but because if feels so _good_. Just being there, close, safe and warm, feels so damn good, and neither wants to let go of each other just yet.

That is until an appalled sounding "Ye Gods!" reaches their ears. Their eyes instantly fly open, but they exchange a laugh, more amused than truly embarrassed, and reluctantly separate.

When they turn their heads, it's to find an irritated-looking Provenza glaring at them. He pauses, gives them a purposeful once over no doubt noting how Sharon doesn't put some distance between herself and Andy but rather tucks herself into his side. As if deliberating his next move, his gaze narrows, and then he decisively just pushes past them and storms into the break room. When he mutters, "Get a room," Sharon promptly hides her face in Andy's shoulder and dissolves into giggles.

Andy marvels at her carefree reaction, starts chuckling, too, and whispers a besotted, "Oh, I love you," to her.

The words sober her somewhat, for it was that very sentiment that overwhelmed her mere moments ago, and she looks up at him to return the sentiment with a breathless, "I love you, too."

They don't notice Provenza is able to hear them.

As they steal another quick kiss from one another, they don't see him involuntarily grinning to himself either, even as he mutters under his breath, "Idiots."

 **THE END**

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I wish you all a merry Christmas and happy holidays. I hope you enjoyed my little gift to you. :)


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